In Flatland they live flat, in Latland they live lazy. and scrap
Them flata, we have thought that we are going to kill
For non-profit reasons
In Slöland they live slöa, in Dö country where the dead live
In Raskland the healthy live, they never die
The dead we will burn, we don't want to know them
They die a shall we spy as soon as they sit still
Then they do as we want
Most of them live in Krigland, they fight most of the time
They fight more years on end, then they rest for two days
Their medals shine, they sit when they think
They sit on the part of the body where the brain sees te har
Say, can you guess where?
When generals speak, the voices become nasal
They stare fixedly at the maps, but panic grips them
Then they close their eyes and point, the command calls echo
They raise their binoculars and criticize
And count their corpses
In Blåland they live blue, in Gråland they live gray ¥a
In Germany live the pale gentlemen of the brown trousers
When I see the brown color I shudder to the core
And if you hear the tactful tread of boots then is it them, my friend
For they are still marching!